


Han and Chewie's Sexy Shower

by bazemayonnaise (Ninjaninaiii)



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexuality, Cooking, Dorks in Love, M/M, Pining, Roommates, Trans Male Character, everyone is trans so sue me, jokes about pregnancy, scar appreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 17:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14753057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninjaninaiii/pseuds/bazemayonnaise
Summary: “No, it’s not a sex thing. Would you have asked Chewie if he was having sex with Han?”“I’d be more surprised, what with him not being an eligible young bachelor with that whole friendly banter rivalry going on...”Lando's got no place to stay. Han's door is always open.





	Han and Chewie's Sexy Shower

**Author's Note:**

> Intended to be a 'I'm going to my ship, to my room, and I never want to see you again' fic, but somehow it became this.

Han woke up to the ungodly sound of his phone ringing and recognised the ringtone as his ‘not urgent’ landline, a number he gave out to few people: take-away sometimes, and for signing up to things he knew he’d get cold calls from at three AM. 

He didn’t have to open his eyes to know that it wasn’t five yet; there was a certain amount of grogginess he was used to feeling when he got pre-five AM calls.

The phone rang long and shrill, so he turned and wrapped one of his pillows over himself. Blessed silence for all of ten seconds. 

The phone started to ring again and he sighed. Rolled onto his back. One more time. If they called one more time, it would constitute as urgent. The dial tone stopped- but then a familiar voice took its place.

His eyes opened instinctually as Lando cleared his throat, addressing the answering-machine voice. Han grabbed at his mobile, but it didn’t mark any missed calls, and Lando knew better than to… what, drunk call him?

“Hey, Han, I uh, I realise it’s about three in the morning but if you’re there, could you pick up? I’m going to keep talking for about twenty more seconds before I decide that L3’s a better friend than you are, which we all know will boost her ego to unimaginable-”

“This isn’t fair,  _ Sir _ ,” Han said, droning the last word so it sounded more like a slur than a compliment. 

“Now you’ll respect my position?” 

“Unannounced visits, Captain? I could get you demoted for this shit.” Han couldn’t quite smile, not yet, even as Lando laughed down the phone. It was, as Lando so rightly pointed out, still 3 AM afterall. 

“Mmhm,” Lando managed, voice eloquent in its eyeroll. 

“Think of my children, Captain. Waking them up at odd hours.”

“Uhuh.” 

“Too thin?”

“Oh no, I’d love to hear about your children, Solo, go on.”

Han flung one of his arms over his face as he got back into bed, less concerned about surprise gang violence now he could hear Lando’s laugh. “Too thin,” Han conceded.

Another “mmhm”, followed by a beat of silence. “That job today, huh.” Lando sounded suspiciously un-egotistical as he fished for smalltalk, waiting for Han’s skeptical “uhuh?” before continuing. “Quite the leveling that building complex got.” They’d been out until nearly midnight, taking longer now that they’d started evacuating sites before destroying the nest of Imperial gangs that took root in heavily populated buildings. Damned morals. 

“Uhuh?” Han said, eloquent in suggesting Lando cut to the chase.

“Turns out, uh, little miscalculation... “ A sound like Lando was licking his lips. “That new flat I bought.”

Now Han smiled, full on grinned, imagining Lando’s face. “We trashed your new house.”

“We trashed my new house.” Lando sighed, and now Han was waking up, he could hear the sound of a street behind Lando, and a slight chill to his voice, like he’d been outside for too long. 

“I’ll get the sofa ready. Where are you?”

“On your doorstep.” There was the feeble sound of knocking and Han couldn’t stop a snort before he hung up. 

Han gave his apartment a cursory once over before he opened the door, but he really didn’t stay in the room long enough in the day for there to be anything more embarrassing than a multitude of empty Chinese cartons, so he opened the door with little fanfare, already going back to the bedroom to find any semblance of spare duvets. 

“Nice to see you too,” Lando said, closing the door behind him. 

“Just be glad it’s too cold to sleep au naturel.”

The corner of Lando’s mouth flickered into a smile, but he covered it with his bare hands, blowing hot breath onto them. “Speak for yourself, my closets’ve been reduced to what I have on my back.” Lando pretended to sniff his shirt and recoiled. It’d been a long day, and he hadn’t showered since he’d run half-way round the city chasing treasure. Thankfully he’d managed not to singe his cape.

The sound of an opening drawer and a pyjama-bottom-t-shirt set was thrown at him.

“D’you think these will fit me,” Lando asked, face serious as he looked at Han, “What with you being a maternity size and all?” 

He suffered a well-deserved punch to the shoulder as Han passed and dumped his scruffy pillow and a blanket on the sofa. “Shower,” Han pointed, “Bedroom. Sheets are probably still warm.” He yawned and got comfortable on the sofa. “I only have one towel and toothbrush but after that time in Philly…” 

Lando shuddered as he thought about that hellish week, where nearly a hundred bandit-hunters fought for the use of the ten towels and solitary toothbrush. 

He was halfway through shampooing his hair with his now-thawed hands before he realised Han had abandoned his bed for him. By the time he’d finished cleaning and had towelled himself dry, Han was already a dead-weight in the living room.

The bed was still faintly warm, but it felt odd to get into the queen on the side Han obviously favoured- a Han sized indent worn into the mattress, so he took back the covers on the other side, trying to stave off the February chill and warm his side of the bed. 

This side, he corrected, not his side. The bed, the clothes, the warmth, it beat sleeping in the bunk he’d just attempted to move out of, after nearly three years of staying there. 

It didn’t take too long to nod off, hair still damp but eyes heavy, feeling content.

-

“Nice hair,” L3 laughed as she rubbed the back of Lando’s head, the hair alternately sticking up on end and plastered flat against his skull. “What, did you sleep with your hair wet? Run out of hair product?”

She chucked her kit onto her makeshift desk, equipment scattering everywhere.

There was no way Lando was going to admit that he had, in fact, fallen asleep with his hair still wet in Han’s bed, nor that Han did not own hair products, so he kept silent, glaring at the screen with his arms crossed over his borrowed shirt, hoping she wouldn’t notice that the fit wasn’t quite as tight as it usually was.

L3 circled around him, smirking. “It’s cute.” 

Lando bit his lip, knowing that he’d rather keep silent than provoke her and reveal too much, as he tended to do.

“Did he tell you?” was the first thing Han asked L3 as he joined them. L3 raised an inquisitive eyebrow, one that clearly read ‘did one/both of you get laid and who to’, but shook her head. 

“We blew up his house yesterday,” was all Han could manage as he tried to control his smile, to sound like he found this situation completely, amazingly, not at all hilarious. 

L3 didn’t bother hiding her own amusement, uttering a long, low, “No way,” as she turned between the two. “The I’m-so-happy-to-be-moving-out-of-this-shithole, it’s-an-amazing-apartment apartment?” 

Lando nodded, feeling the pain of it like someone had reached through his skin and grabbed his guts. 

“And guess who made a pregnant person sleep on the couch.” 

L3’s smile only grew as she whipped around to Lando, feigning an outraged “no!” as Han pointed to himself.

This, Lando grit his teeth at. He’d actually felt quite bad at having let Han put himself out for him at first, but after having brought it up several times over breakfast, as well as at least nine times in the ride over, Lando was growing used to the idea of telling Han where he could stuff his damned sofa.

“Right!” Lando called over the busy room, clapping his hands together as he saw a red light flash on the holographic screen, “Look alive!” He turned on his heel, trying to ignore the grin Han shot him, ruining the effect of his otherwise well-timed glare.

-

Lando caught Han alone that afternoon on the last floor of the building to be cleared. “I didn’t get the chance earlier, but thank you.”

Han shrugged, knocking down another door to make sure there were no stragglers. Lando did the same on his side, then tried to spot any kind of regret on Han’s face when they met in the middle of the corridor again. 

“Help thine neighbour or something, right?” Han misquoted, remembering a time where he’d attended a church as a kid. Those were the days: free food and a warm corner to sleep in. “They find you a new place? Or is it back to the bunks?”

Lando nodded for a second, one shoulder rising into a half-shrug. “High demand for housing…. they’ve already given the bunk away. Waiting list of emergency housing is forty three months.” 

Han whistled through his teeth. They all knew that the list only got longer when buildings like this had to be completely cleared and the residents rehoused. “You gonna ask or should I keep pretending like I don’t know where this is going?”

“If I paid rent.... and halved the bills…” Lando, seeing Han was going to accept, returned to his usual self with a step, back straightening to his more confident persona. “And you can have your damned bed back. I couldn’t sleep last night thinking about all the shit you’ve done in it.” Lando pulled a disgusted face, swinging out of Han’s reach as he saw the punch coming. 

-

Day three of sleeping on the couch and Lando regretted so honourably giving up the bed. The first night hadn’t been so bad, he’d been tired from too little sleep, and practically fell unconscious on the thing. But night two had seen the advent of discovering that the couch was, in reality, quite old, and that there was a spring that jutted out in just the wrong place to be uncomfortable no matter which way he lay.

He was attempting to use his blanket as insulation, a crude mattress topper when he pulled at a piece of material. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor, surrounded by a metal cage.

The sound drew Han from his room, gun drawn even as Lando shuffled back and out of what he now realised was the bottom of a sofa-bed. Gun falling to his side, Han looked just as shocked to see the new piece of furniture as Lando.

“Didn’t know it did that?” Lando asked, heartbeat returning to normal.

“Didn’t know it did that,” Han confirmed. He took a step towards it, watching the thing like it might suddenly sprout wings. “I don’t have a spare sheets.” 

“I’ll buy some tomorrow,” Lando said, sounding equally dazed. Maybe he could buy a duvet too, though that really would look like he was moving in.

Interest already depleting, Han returned to his room and Lando heard the click of a light turning off, so he tried to make himself comfy on the thing. 

He rolled over and discovered that where there was only one annoying spring before, now the entire bed seemed to be made of the things. He sighed, but then remembered the waiting list, and the Victorian-England-esque “homeless shelters” that had popped up recently, full of freezing civilians who hadn’t the privileges he had. It was hard to fall asleep that night.

-

“But why vegan?” Han asked as they unloaded their groceries onto the kitchen counter. Lando had decided that an entire week of take-aways was enough, and finally managed to drag Han to the shops. 

“Have you seen what goes into ‘meat’ products?” Lando asked, nose wrinkling. It was hard to live a vegan life when organic produce cost an arm and a leg alone, but in a world with dwindling food supplies, finding something without animal products in it was getting nigh on impossible. 

“Yeah, yeah. we’ve all seen the documentary…” Han pulled the receipt from the last bag and looked like he was going to be ill. “I don’t spend this much on food in a month, let alone…” he looked at the five bags on the table, ample food to feed them for a couple of days, at most. 

“With all the chemicals going into your body already, you should watch what you eat.”

“Is that actual concern in your voice?” Han asked as he made room in his carbohydrates cupboard for Lando’s organic pasta, and Lando’s organic flour. 

“I’d make it mandatory for everyone in the crew to eat vegan if that were possible.”

“You’d never mentioned it before,” Han observed, trying to think whether he knew of Lando’s dietary/moral/political leanings. Maybe he’d been trying to keep it from L3; the skies only knew what she’d say if she found out that her beloved macho Lando was a little organic vegan nerd, instead of a regular old vegetarian as they’d all been led to believe. “Can you cook?”

“Not many vegan take-away joints,” Lando said, setting out cans and boxes, unwrapping individual vegetables like they were made of gold. (Not that, Han thought, they weren’t worth their weight in the stuff.) 

“Does this mean we can’t get pizza?” Han asked, “Because I’m craving pizza, and you have to pity the poor pregnant guy when he craves for something.” 

“We’re not getting pizza, Han, Dominoes isn’t known for its ethically produced, organic vegetables.”

“And Bamboo Wok is?” Han asked, dropping into one of the chairs he’d set around his previously unused dining table. 

“You want pizza? I can make pizza.” Lando removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and started to wash his hands, cleaning the surface of the germs they’d brought in with the bags.

“Make? Pizza? You?” Han folded his arms across his chest and sat back as Lando messed up the order they’d only created less than a minute ago by removing products they’d just bought. 

It was only by pure coincidence that the two men had taken the same day as their mandatory day off, so it was an odd feeling to be sat in the kitchen of their home while the sun was still high in the sky, making lunch instead of a midnight snack. 

Han discovered that a Vegan Pizza was not at all like an actual pizza, more like a flatbread topped with roasted vegetables. He also discovered that he didn’t much mind that it wasn’t a cheesy, meaty mess because Lando  _ could  _ actually cook, and he was man enough to admit that this was a lot better than Dominos.

Lando had recovered a tub of hair care from his locker, but had as of yet managed to order any new clothes, and was still relying on sharing Han’s closet until further notice, which made an even odder spectacle for Han. 

Lando seemed so at ease sharing his space, to be lounging around eating pizza and sharing an (awful, awful,) organic beer, but Han was not used to sharing his space. He’d never had to. He’d never had siblings, spouses or family, and never before had someone worn his clothes. 

Work-Lando wouldn’t have belonged in this scene, Han thought. Oddly, it was as if home-Lando was a different person. He was willing to bet that if Lando had a doppelganger, this was what he would look like. More himself, not putting up a front.

-

“So how’s it feel to be step-mom?” L3 asked, chin in palms, elbows on Lando’s desk. Her smile slipped at the look Lando gave her and she averted her eye for a second. “Sorry, Sir. …” She sent him an apologetic smile. “Step-dad?” she asked, gaining a roll of the eyes. 

“As your direct superior, I know for a fact that you have work to be doing.” 

“Yes, mighty overlord, please crack that whip a little louder. Please, Lando,” L3 elongated the words like she were physically pulling the truth out of him. “I need to know. Is Han a good lay?” 

“I-” Lando’s attention suddenly diverted from the screens before him. “You think we’re-?”

“What, acting shy?” L3’s words were still a couple of half-seconds longer than they had any right being. “So….. it’s not a sex thing?”

“No, it’s not a sex thing. Would you have asked Chewie if he was having sex with Han?”

“I’d be more surprised, what with him not being an eligible young bachelor with that whole friendly banter rivalry going on...”

“L3, I argue with you all the time, doesn’t mean I want to fuck you.” The words came out slightly louder than he’d intended and he could feel the silence around him like a wall.

“That’s not a denial that you wanna get into Han’s pants.”

“Han doesn’t like anyone in his pants,” Lando reminded her, gently. A little too softly, perhaps, because L3 just grinned.

“Asexuality’s fluid.”

“I’ve got nowhere else to stay.” 

“That wasn’t a no either.” L3 swung her legs up on her desk, tucking her earphones under her hijab. “Anyway, Han and Chewie had a sexy shower once, I’ve seen the vid.”

-

Lando arrived home to an empty house, something he was slowly getting used to. Well, that just meant more time to work on his autobiography away from prying ears. 

“Chapter 36-” Lando took a breath. “Han.” And Chewie’s sexy shower. God damn it.  Han and Chewie had had a sexy shower once. The last thing Lando wanted to do was to fixate, but it was pretty darn hard not to. 

‘Vid. For research.’ Lando texted. 

The reply was almost immediate, as if L3 had had the message queued all day. 

It looked like one of the Imperial training camps, bleach white tile walls, tungsten-lit, simple shower heads jutting from walls. 

Two shadowy figures — no, figures covered in — something, dripping in — Lando brought his tablet closer to his face. Something. Mud? One obviously Chewie, hair matted with the stuff, the other figure a younger, skinnier Han. The angle was odd — it was a security feed, positioned to avoid voyeurism but to record any violence or illicit shit that happened in the bathrooms. 

Han went in first, then Chewie — 

“What’cha watchin’?” 

Lando shoved the tablet against his chest, his best ‘I’m up to no wrongdoing’ smile already plastered on his face. Han was stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a dastardly grin. 

“Ya watch a lot of porn while us hard-working folk are doing their jobs?”

“I’m not watching porn,” Lando said, his voice dipping into his ‘I’m only humouring this conversation because I’ve got nowhere better to be.’

“Uhuh.” Han, spectacularly uninterested, reached behind him and chucked a bundle in Lando’s direction. “Duvet. Don’t soil it until we get new sheets.” 

“That’s disgusting.”

“Hey, I’m not one to judge.”

“I’m not watching pornography.”

“Oh yeah?” Han dropped himself on the sofa next to Lando, getting into his personal space. “Let’s see, then.”

Lando smiled at him, tablet still pressed firmly against his chest. Han smiled back.

“I was recording my autobiography, if you must know.” Lando stuffed the tablet under a pillow, away from Han’s reach, putting on a show of having an air of embarrassment. 

Han made an over-exaggerated expression of excitement. “Well now I  _ have  _ to see it.” 

Lando was mid-way through a “not yet” when Han lunged himself over Lando, grabbing for the tablet, Lando’s hands coming instantly shove Han off of him. While Han diverted some of his attention from the pillow to not falling to the floor, Lando grabbed the tablet and held it above his head, leaning back into the sofa to get as much distance as he could while still pinned in his seat. 

Han eyed the tablet hungrily, then levered himself up from Lan’s knees, Lando attempting to keep Han down by hooking his legs around Han’s and dragging his body back down until Hand was knelt between his legs. 

Han grabbed at Lando’s shirt to keep himself from slipping all the way to the floor, eyes still locked on the tablet. Lando prepared himself for another bout, muscles clenching like a cat preparing to pounce. Han’s eager grin looked ready to split his face, obviously formulating a plan… 

Han’s eyes dropped from the tablet to stare Lando dead in the eye, and Han’s body went relaxed. Lando looked down at him, on his knees, hands around Lando’s waist, grin turning a distinct shade of mushy, and Lando felt himself come darn near having a stroke.

Before really registering what was happening, Lando felt the tablet be grabbed out of his hand, and Han had vaulted himself over the back of the sofa, tablet now held above his own head. “Hah!” 

Lando scrambled to twist and stand, reaching out over the sofa in a useless attempt at regaining control. 

_ Chewie and Han — Shower —  _

“It was porn, it was porn, Han.” 

“You would say that, to try and get me off your tail.” Han gave the tablet a successful wave, keeping it above his head as he theatrically went to turn it on. 

_ Calm, Lando.  _

“Han,  _ baby _ ,” Lando tried, flashing his most charming smile. “Let’s say we order in pizza tonight? Meat feast, just for you.” 

“Oh I’m almost disappointed in you,  _ Captain _ , is that the best you can do?”

“I’ll make you something. Anything. You name it.”

“I’m listening.”

“Pizza?”

“Is that the only thing you can make?”

Lando rubbed at his eyes. “I don’t know what you like, Han. What’ll it take to get the tablet back?”

“Hmm.” Han made a show of thinking, tapping the tablet against his chin as he thought. “Three favours, anything I want. You can say no, but they last until I get three yeses.” 

“Done.” 

Han made another exaggerated gape, looking at the tablet with renewed wonder. “How bad  _ is  _ your autobiography?” Han ‘ooh’ed, “Have you talked about  _ me _ ?”

“Frequently, you annoy me often.”

“Aww,” Han cooed, stuffing the tablet into the waist of his trousers. “Lando, order us some pizza for dinner, will you?”

“Done.” Lando reached for his mobile and ordered, their usuals saved to the online basket. As the order went through, he looked up with a relieved smile. “Two favours left.”

“Two?” Han asked, “I don’t remember calling that one a favour…” 

“Han,” Lando said darkly. He stopped when Han brought a hand to his stomach, patting the rectangle under his shirt. “Fine. I’m not happy, and I don’t like it, but I accept.”

Han let out a satisfied hum, then kicked off his boots, getting out of his work clothes. “Aladdin’d your ass.”

“Ah, so it was a trick from a film. Very clever of you.”

“You say, as if you haven’t seen Aladdin.” Han was mid-way through throwing his socks into the laundry basket when he turned to Lando, aghast. “You’ve never seen Aladdin?” 

“Making me watch that trash will require a favour.”

“Oh, you’re on, Calrissian.”

-

By the time the pizza had arrived, Han had turned the sofa-bed into a teenage mess of junk food, film playlists and blankets. He’d managed to barter a movie marathon (a minimum three movies) with freedom of snack choice (no vegetable sans saturated fat) and Lando’s complete attention for two favours, which seemed like a complete bargain. The pair shook on it, and both settled in in their pyjamas.  

It probably would have been a great bargain, had Han not fallen asleep twenty minutes into the second film, full of pizza and warm drinks. 

Lando managed to watch another half hour of the film before he got bored (no longer entertained by Han’s constant ream of film facts), and began cleaning the bed of snacks. Han had brought his own duvet from his bed, snuggled tight as Han washed up their bowls and put their leftovers in the fridge. Usually, he’d take any opportunity to throw all the remnants in the trash, but he felt a modicum of unfairness that Han had spent two favours on an evening he didn’t get to enjoy for its entirety. 

As Lando came back into the living room, he glances at Han’s bedroom. A chance to sleep in a proper bed for once… Lando sat on the edge of the bed. No springs, no backache, room to stretch. 

His eyes were drawn back to the low glow of the laptop on the coffee-table, action flick mid-scene. Lando couldn’t find it in himself to make up an excuse as he stood and walked back over to the sofa bed, making himself as comfortable as possible in the tangle of blankets. 

Once he’d settled, Han breathed out, then moved closer in the bed, finding Lando and keeping him closer.

“Cold feet,” Han sighed, like a mid-dream mumble. Lando remained statue still, barely breathing. “Smell good, Lando.”

He was going to be a sleep-deprived mess tomorrow. 

-

“I still say that was really only one favour,” Han griped, knocking down a door with a kick and clearing the room before rejoining Lando.

“I washed up while you slept,” Lando griped back. “I didn’t throw away your rancid food.”

“You didn’t waste money and you acted like a real housemate,” Han moaned back, blaster going off and felling a poorly-hidden Imperial gangster. He let off two more shots as another went running, but let Lando take the third shot, the man crashing into the ground, already dead.

“You fell asleep, that’s not on me.” 

“I was totally awake, you turned it off while I was resting my eyes.” 

“Please, boys,” L3 called over to them, “I’m literally going to kill myself if you don’t shut the fuck up, right Chewie?” 

Chewie groaned his agreement, even as his solid right hook brought a pair of Imperials to the ground. 

“I say it was only one,” Han said, “But I wouldn’t know, I only have the blackmail on my side.”

“Ooh, Han caught you watching—”

“Porn? Yes, L3, Han caught be watching—”

“I mean it was pretty sexy, though I didn’t know you’d get off seeing—”

“Okay, let’s put a stop there,” Lando ordered, in his best ‘I’m the Captain’ voice. 

“Han, Chewie, take the left, L3, with me.”

“You always put me with you,” L3 complained, “It’s really starting to stink of workplace harassment.” 

“L3,” Lando warned, “Don’t test me.”

“Or what, you’ll attack the only Muslim woman on the team? Yeah, seems a bit racist to me.”

“L3,” Lando warned again, “I’m not in the mood.” 

“Yeah guys,” Han interjected, “We should focus on community, not competition—”

“Shut up, Han,” Lando, L3 and Chewie managed to say at once. Han dipped his head in a quick nod and took a step back. 

“What do you want, L3?”

“Me and Chewie make a great team,” L3 said, looping one of her arms around Chewie’s shoulder; the only one on the team tall enough to do so. 

“Chewbacca?” Lando asked, getting an acknowledging grunt in reply.

“Fine. Chewie and L3 to the left, Han with me.” Lando began walking off, cape flicking behind him to avoid any further argument. 

“Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed,” Han said once they’d turned the corner. 

“You snore.” 

“I don’t snore!”

“Talk in your sleep, too.”

“Now that I definitely don’t do.”

“Chattering away all night.”

“If I did chatter, I would only say cool things.”

“It was the exact opposite.” 

“Well I know I don’t talk in my sleep so I don’t care what you think you thought you heard me say.” 

“Great. You do, though.”

“I don’t!”

“Do so,” Lando was already saying when he caught sight of movement. Adrenaline alone pushed his body forward, the sound of the blaster only registering as he hit the ground, surprise quickly replaced by pain as his body registered the shot to his shoulder. 

Across the hall, the five Imperials dropped under Han’s own shots, then Han was at Lando’s side, stripping away the material of Lando’s (Han’s) shirt to check the wound. 

“Lando?”

“I’m good, go check they’re not alone.” 

“You’re bleeding—”

“Han,” Lando ordered, hearing the sound of marching Imperials, drawn to them by the sound of gunfire. Han let out an aggravated “fine,” bringing Lando back his dropped gun before running round the corner. 

Lando took a deep breath, then sat up, feeling the burn of the blaster tug as his muscles moved. Could have been worse — upper arm, not hitting organ or artery. He ripped off the sleeve of the injured arm, wrapping the material tight around the bloodied wound. 

By the time he’d managed to tie the knot tight enough between his hand and teeth, Han was running back around the corner, covered in sweat and panic. 

“Not dead,” Lando assured, holding out his uninjured arm to allow Han to help him up. 

“How bad is it?” Han asked, not meeting Lando’s eye let Lando lean his weight against him. 

“It’ll heal.”

“Good.”

“What’s with the attitude, Han?” 

“Hun’s a new one.”

“I said Han.”

“You definitely said hun.”

“I know what names I’ve called you.” 

“I wasn’t complaining, Lando, just observing.” 

Lando stopped, tilting his head to look at Han. “You alright there,  _ Solo _ ?”

“Do me a favour and let me take my own bullets next time.”

“Sure,” Lando said, keeping his face neutral. “Your wish, my command,  _ hun. _ ”

“I’m trying to be serious, Lando.”

“Mmhm,” Lando agreed, leaning more into Han and adopting his best ‘woe is me’. “Next time I’ll let you  _ die  _ in my very  _ arms _ .” 

“I’m just saying, I don’t need you to step in to protect me.”

“Ah yes, the big action hero.”

“No, Lando —” Han sighed. “Let’s just get out of here.” 

Lando shrugged, then took in a sharp breath of air with a “shit,” as pain flared up in his arm again. 

-

Han allowed Lando the use of the shower first, without complaint, which made for a nice change. Lando would have loved to have taken a hot shower to get the grime from the day out of his skin, but he settled for lukewarm to avoid causing more damage to his wound. 

When the shirtless but lounger-wearing Lando came out of the bathroom, Han had set up a medical area on their dining table, disinfected equipment lined out on stainless steel trays. 

Lando sat himself in the patient’s chair, letting a silent Han clean the wound and patch him up. 

Once he was done, Han took the equipment to the kitchen to clean, leaving Lando alone again. He went to go sit on the sofa, but noticed his blankets and pillows missing. 

“In there,” Han said, coming back through to point to his bedroom. 

“A reward for being so valiant?”

“I slept in that sofa bed for a night and I was too tired to notice one Imperial soldier.” Han said nothing more, disappearing into the bedroom as he got changed out of his uniform. 

“Have strength, Calrissian,” Lando told himself as he heard the bathroom door close, one hand touching at the bandaged of his other arm. 

-

Han kept Lando’s tablet in his bedside drawer, Lando found. Not that he’d been snooping, but he heard its ding and thought,  _ It is legally mine.  _

Lando held it up to the light, trying to see if he could work out whether Han had attempted to break in by analysing the fingerprint marks on the screen, but either Han was a great picklock (leaving no trace) or he had kept his word. 

“Chapter 36,” Lando started, safe in the knowledge that Han couldn’t hear him over the sound of the shower. “As you can see, today I took a blaster shot to the upper arm in an act of valiance, protecting our young pilot, Han Solo.” Lando couldn’t help the shit-eating grin off his face as he said it, looking forward to the day Han finally got a copy of it. “As a reward, I have been promoted from sofa bed to real bed-” Lando cut himself off, rewound to the beginning of the sentence and started again. “Solo was quick to react, taking out the remaining soldiers and managed to extricate me from the situation without further harm.” 

Lando put the tablet down and scratched at the back of his neck. He sat like that until the shower turned off, and Han came back through, towelling his hair dry. Lando held the tablet up in success.

“Breaking deals now, Calrissian?”

“Uh-uh, you’ve freed this genie. ‘Do me a favour and-”

“-Damnit.” Han threw the damp towel into the laundry basket from the doorway, then flopped himself into bed. “Fine. Have fun deleting your browser history.” 

“Oh, I will.” Lando made sure to angle the screen as dramatically away from Han as possible before deleting any evidence of him watching the video of the shower, text to L3 included. 

Once he’d finished, he looked up to see Han watching him, face far from his usual cheeky grin. When Han didn’t look away, Lando raised an eyebrow, mock-adopting a sexier pose. 

Han dropped his eyes to Lando’s injured arm, starting from the injury but working down, eyes catching on each scar. Lando turned his arm as Han went, allowing him to catch a glimpse of each sewn-up dagger strike and blaster bolt. Han jumped to Lando’s other arm, this one his undominant, and so littered with more frequent, though less deep injuries. 

From Lando’s shoulders (the left sporting a particularly large chunk of lighter scar tissue, down to his chest — the twin lines of meticulous stitches of a mastectomy. Han lifted his own arm, pausing before touching to allow Lando to give his permission. Lando leaned into the touch, Han running a finger over the tight-knit skin. Lando’d been saving a long time for those particular scars, not giving in to temptation until he could afford the best of the best after a particularly profitable heist. 

Less scars on Lando’s stomach, though there were some smaller pock-marks from a childhood illness that Lando brought Han’s hand to. At Lando’s waist, Han’s eyes flicked back up, resting again on the fresh bandages, hand still resting on Lando’s midriff. 

“Impressive, no?” Lando asked, keeping still, his injured arm resting in his lap, the other propping himself up on the bed. 

“No.” Han’s finger traced a small circle on Lando’s skin, feeling over the small childhood scars. 

“Hmm,” Lando said with a smile, not believing him. “You got many?”

“I’m not stupid enough to get hit.”

“Or you’re too much of a coward, run away before the real fight starts.”

Han’s expression darkened, and Lando was quick to bring his hand to Han’s leg, stopping him from pulling away. “Joking.” 

Han squinted at him, eyes coming to stare into Lando’s. Finding true apology there, Han let his shoulders relax again, head bowing until his forehead was against Lando’s chest, soft damp hair to warm skin. 

Lando brought his hand from Han’s leg to his back, completing the weird, lop-sided embrace. 

“You’re an idiot,” Han whispered into Lando’s chest. 

“Now, that doesn’t seem fair, baby.” 

Lando felt Han’s breath against his chest, and hoped Han couldn’t feel his pulse skyrocket. He did have a reputation as hard-ass cool guy to uphold. 

“You and your stupid capes,” Han continued, “They’re bright targets for blasters. I’m glad they all got shot up when we destroyed your apartment.” 

“Careful, or I’ll start taking this personally.” 

“Don’t get injured again, Calrissian.” 

Lando let out a soft sound, half laugh, half sigh. “I’ll try my best, Solo.”

“Stop being nice to me,” Han said, “It’s easier when you hate me.”

“I’ve never hated you really.”

“Oh yeah? That time I stole your ship?”

Lando did laugh at that. “Yes, alright, I hated you then. The second time you stole it too.”

“You were counting cards.”

“I was,” Lando said, without a modicum of shame. “As any good hustler would know before playing me.” 

Lando ran his hand up Han’s back to Han’s hair, fingers stroking the back of Han’s head. “Han, got to warn you, baby, any more of this and I’ll constitute it as flirting. Just to let you know this is where we’ve got to end it.” 

Han was silent for a beat, which calmed Lando’s heart again. This was fine, he could deal with - even enjoyed - platonic flirting, so long as Han knew what he was doing. 

Han pulled away from Lando’s chest, and Lando removed his hand from Han’s hair, Lando making his face some expression of ‘calm and collected’ when Han moved back in to place a kiss on Lando’s neck, just above the scar that stretched to his collarbone. 

Lando let out a shocked gush of hair, suppressing the sudden thrill that ran through him. “Han,”

“Do you want me to stop?” Han asked, neither looking at one-another. 

“I don’t, but-”

“Neither do I,” Han said, placing another kiss in the same spot, then another just higher. Lando re-placed his hovering hand on Han’s head, encouraging with light pressure, eyes closing as Han moved them closer. 

Han kissed into the corner of Lando’s jaw, then to his cheek, to the corner of his moustache and then paused, breath ghosting above Lando’s lips. “Of course it’s flirting,” Han said, before kissing Lando, slow. “I’m,” Han managed between kisses, “an idiot, but I’m not oblivious.” 

Lando hushed him with a breathy “good,” pulling Han closer, closer, until Han was in Lando’s lap, Lando’s injured arm rested on the small of Han’s back. 

“Damned wound,” Lando had to concede eventually, the shoots of pain far outweighing the pleasure of Han’s lips on his. Han pulled away, too quick for Lando’s taste. Han’s hands were already on Lando’s arm, turning it gently, checking for blood. Finding none leaking through, Han locked eyes with Lando, then gently kissed the bandaged area. 

“Can feel it healing already, baby.”

Han snorted a disbelieving “shut up,” before leaning in for another kiss, Lando happy to provide. 

“Think I realised what I don’t like about this place,” Lando said as he made himself comfortable in the bed, waking his tablet on his chest.

“Not being the most handsome in the room?”

Lando didn’t bother rising to that, opening his music player. “Too quiet up in here.”

“Mmm,” Han admitted, relaxing into Lando’s side. “Scrap kids can’t sleep without the thumping music and the police sirens through the walls.” 

Lando pressed  [ play ](https://open.spotify.com/track/7rt7ywY9yekwaYXk2Zt4Q5?si=GbqK7-uXSYuFPAXg8hHWBQ) , let the tablet slip to the floor, his good hand finding Han’s hair again as Han’s own came to rest over his stomach. 

“Good?” Lando asked. 

Han placed a sleepy kiss on Lando’s good shoulder. “I don’t talk in my sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr: @bazemayonnaise


End file.
